Into the Dark
by araeofsomething
Summary: He's waited hundreds of years for her. He had thought the Labyrinth would be their beginning in this lifetime, but alas, Sarah can remember naught but bits and pieces. Time is running out in her mortal timeline as she is in danger. Rated M for l8tr chaps.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

She woke up gasping for breath.

Forcibly drawing air into her starved lungs, the brunette beauty glowed with life. Her eyes opened to show dilated pupils then slammed shut; her mouth moist and red as though she'd been engaged in a heavy make-out session.

He watched as she sat up halfway in her bed while struggling with her brown long hair, putting a hand to her brow; she began to cry. Her breasts clung to the blue tank top and the mismatched red plaid boy shorts left little to the imagination as they cupped her rounded cheeks like a lover's palm. Great racking sobs worked their way up her body until she lay down and rolled over on her stomach.

The viewpoint shattered and the shards reformed to show the young woman's face, her eyes still closed. She clutched at the sheets in the bed around her, drawing the pillow underneath her chin and began slowly calming herself with deep, intentional breaths. A few final tears slid down her face as she found her way back into a deep sleep.

A lone being watched outside of the scene from shadows of his own. Coal colored leather jacket covering him from neck to hessian booted foot. He sat alone in a darkened corner outside of a stone structure, waiting for the right crystal to return to him. Several floated past lazily, as if on a gentle breeze. Each held moments of recent events important to him, his plan.

A trembling immortal hand curled to catch one of the several glowing spheres. He held it weightless within his black leather palm as he surveyed the scene of the woman. She was now resting peacefully although tear tracks were still visible on her pale cheek. _Even exhausted and haunted by nightly visits she retains her beauty_, he mused.

His strong face, with one cerulean blue and one tawny eye, framed by silver blond hair appeared as it if would crumple for a split second. Overwhelmed, the being's eyes shuttered as he felt her pain and his own. He didn't want to relinquish what was his back into the black night of the sky above, but knew it must be done. For now.

Her time was almost up.


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is my very first EVER fanfic and I am insanely nervous as to how it will be received! lol Please feel free to leave comments - whether you love it or dislike it intensely (ie: hate lol). (Also: I'm sorry! I am in love, love, love, with commas and semi-colons so I apologize in advance for unintentional punctuation errors made in haste. No commas or semi-colons were harmed in the writing of this fanfic.) Thanks!_

_And... Anything you recognize, I do not own. Labyrinth and all characters are owned by Jim Henson & Co._

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CHAPTER ONE

The radio station blared across the room at Sarah Williams as her alarm hit 6:45am. "_Never gonna fall for/__Modern Love walks beside me/__Modern Love walks on by/__Modern Love gets me to the Church on Time_..."

She flipped over with a grunt and pulled the pillow over her head, screaming into it. "Auuugghhhhhh! _Soooo tired_!"

Frustration rode her hard - she knew she couldn't stay in bed all day. She couldn't afford to. Financially or mentally.

After removing the pillow and taking a deep breath, she quickly swung off the bed into a standing position. Swaying a bit to the left from the head rush she steadied herself with her arms out, and waited for the dizzy spell to pass.

"So not fair...! I get the migraine to go with a hangover but not the joy of drinking that's usually the cause," she sighed and began her morning routine, making sure to add in some aspirin for the throbbing in her temples.

When she exited the bathroom after her shower, Sampson, bless his over-fed kitty heart, was lying at the end of her massively tangled bed. He looked like a silver King holding court in the disarrayed red silk. The sheets had been twisted and tossed from her activities during the night. _Too bad there wasn't a man involved, _she smirked at herself, then sobered and reached down a hand to her silver short-haired cat. "I wish I had a normal life, Sammy. I can't remember the last time I had a date." She sighed and absently pet him, staring off at nothing.

Nothing. That's what her life had become. Nothing.

_But there had been such promise when I was younger. Where did it all go? _she wondered, not for the first time.

As a teenager, Sarah had loved the theater. She knew she wanted to be an actress – just like her mother. She was determined to follow in the footsteps of her mother, even after she abandoned Sarah. There were many days that she would dress up in costume and steal away to the park to play out the heroine in each story or play her mother had practiced with her. The playacting slowly began to heal her from within – all the anger and rage of her young woman's heart, the betrayal – to leave a spoiled but determined young woman who was wounded, but not afraid to forge on with her life.

Her father remarried, and her little brother Toby came along. Many nights, a prejudiced Sarah thought she was being taken advantage of by her new stepmother. Time and …_something else..._ proved otherwise. She remembered waking up one Saturday morning in a whole new mind set. Sarah loved, _really_ loved her brother and wanted only the best for him. She became extremely protective of him. Her relationship with her stepmother changed overnight as well into one of respect and affection. There was no way to pinpoint when or how it had happened, but Sarah had realized it was time to grow up.

That very weekend she had boxed up all her mother's playbills, costumes, and odds and ends. The one thing she couldn't bear to put away was a book of poetry that her mother had given her, and a small red leather book titled "Labyrinth". She could never really recall who had given it to her or when. It seemed to have always been with her and had been a major fixture in her teen years, although she could never say exactly why. She just _knew_ the cracked, bound book had been important to who she was becoming.

After that strange, transformative weekend, Sarah began to withdraw from what she thought were childish pursuits – dressing up, playacting – and surrendered to more intellectual and grown up things. She dropped out of Drama Club and joined the Young Entrepreneurs Club instead. She chose to hang out more with the AV kids than her previous melodramatic angst-ridden friends. She was looking ahead, determined to find her place in the adult world. No more fantasies or fairy tales for her. Just the cold, hard facts ma'am.

Little did she realize that she was essentially sealing herself off from the small every day wonders of a rich, full life by finding a middle ground._ But that's what happens when you're abnormal, _she grimaced and shrugged off the small prick of sadness.

While Sarah had been outwardly changing her life to show others she was no longer a child, inwardly, her unconscious mind had been throwing up road blocks.

The dreams had started around the time she was sixteen. It was like watching a silent movie, but feeling every single emotion. Like someone was plucking the strings of her heart continually. Dreams of great love, sorrow, pain, and sadness. They left such a physically aching hole within her – so sure it had to be real, she would wake in the morning to thump her chest make sure it was still solid and whole.

During her teens, she could only remember bits and pieces- a house on a street, carriage wheels, flames of a campfire, silvery white curtains billowing from a coming storm, a crying child, and the feeling of time running out. The flashes of hyper emotional states – extreme love, awful heartache, unimaginable sorrow – that made her wonder if she was losing her mind were the worst.

Each evening the dark of night was little cover to her body as it curled around itself to await the nightmares that would come. For every time she awoke, crying out with trembling limbs, she thankfully cried herself back to sleep. _Something was missing,_ she would think to herself. _But what? Some piece of herself, but where did it go?_ She would query.

Sarah was in college when the dreams became more real to her. She could see whole lives acted out in her dreams within what felt like mere minutes. Her senses of touch, taste, and smell were vividly alive in dream state. Each life was lived in a different time and place; her favorite ones were of the Victorian age, although she didn't care much for the pinched whalebone corset. The least favored were the ones during the French Revolution. It felt like she was going to choke on the powder from her wig whenever those scenes crept into her sleep.

_And who says dying by the guillotine is fast and painless?_ She had woken up in her own vomit from that nightmare. It was the only time she was able to force herself to wake fully and not return to slumber.

_Ick,_ she groused, _that was just so violent... not to mention nasty._

She never actually saw herself, or whatever part she was playing, in these spectacles. She was always watching others, yet acting as a full participant. The cast within her dreams was always different, new, and exciting.

Except for _him_.

Sampson let out a plaintive, "meow", shaking Sarah from her reverie. As if she had to be reminded to feed that tank of a cat. _He could easily pass for a bulldog on just his size alone_, she grinned. "Yes, love, let's get you some chow." His spooky green cat eyes opened and his brow appeared to arch, as if to say _are you forgetting something else?_ His feline gaze traveled up her towel clad body. "Oh, yep. I have to get dressed first. Gimme a minute, bud."

Sarah quickly glanced at the clock on her dresser as she passed the mirror. The alarm had automatically shut off while she was in the shower._ Yep; 7:15,still on schedule_.

Looking into the beveled glass, she pulled up her wet hair and tugged the towel closer to her curvy form. She took a few seconds to inspect her long mud brown hair, and wide hazel eyes. _I wonder how my hair would look done up in the Gibson girl style?_ Her pert nose, creamy complexion seeming to flush as she said "Don't think about it. Don't think about _him_." She forced her gaze hurriedly away from the mirror and strode to the closet grabbing the khaki pants and chocolate button-up blouse she would wear today.

_Him_.

She didn't know his name, but the pale long face with high cheekbones and thin, almost cruel lips, was the same. His observant eyes - one being of the clearest, purest blue, the other what she would call burnished amber - were always watching her. He would pin her – whoever she was in the dream – with his impenetrable gaze, skewering her so that her heart would race fit to burst. She saw everything she had ever wanted and was missing in those mismatched eyes. The intense longing, desire, and agony as her dream-self interacted with this mysterious man was more than any mortal heart could bear, she often thought. Still, she would know _him_ anywhere.

Kilted as a Highland Scotsman, draped in white robes as a Grecian, the Glam-Rocker that glittered with every smokey gaze at her; she had seen him in so many styles of clothes and was happy beyond belief to see him every night.

His presence made her happy, giddy almost. She knew he would never leave her. He was hers. Her … S_odales_. _Soulmate._ The word rang in her head each night when she saw his dear, sharp-featured face capped with silver blond hair. She _knew _him; _she_ _loved him_. But there was always a fear that permeated the end of each life's story. Because she knew what was to happen. The joy of that life would be sucked from her heart; but that wasn't the worst part, no.

The most awful part of these dreams was that so many of them ended with a death.

Her own.


	3. Chapter 2

_I hope all you lovely people are enjoying this so far. It's going to get a bit darker and a tad confusing, so stay with me here. lol_

_As always, I own nothing but my own imagination! Please READ & REVIEW. Tell me what you like and what you don't! As other authors say, "If you review, it makes me want to write more!" :D_

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CHAPTER TWO

Sarah fed Sammy before she left for work in her silver coupe. Sure, silver was a boring color, but it was nearly paid off and it was hers. She tended towards dull colors – shades of grey, brown, and black tended to be at the forefront in her closet of late. Even the button up blouse she was wearing today was an unappealing shade of brown to match her khaki pants. __Think of the positive side though___, _she reminded herself, __at least you bought and paid for this crappy outfit all by yourself___. _

Sarah had worked hard to obtain her small apartment in Santa Barbara, a decent job as a medical biller at a medical transport company, and a cat who loved her. She had few friends due to her '_disturbances' _as she called her dreams. It was limiting and frustrating, but she couldn't trust many people with the cross she was to bear. It took a special sort of person to look at Sarah and not ask her why the bags under her eyes never went away and kept their faint purplish tint_; _listening to any gory details she decided to divulge without thinking she was crazy.

Her family had tried to understand and was loving, but they were in another state and really, it wasn't their job anymore to take care of her. They had helped with the medical side of things and the emotional support as best they could, but some things just couldn't be fixed. However, every morning she had to go out and face the world and she would pull herself together enough to pretend she was a normal twenty six year old woman.

__Sure she was normal__, she thought; __if getting only a few hours of sleep each night was the norm, then she was perfectly fine. If being possessed to see moments out of time is commonplace, then I'm grand! If obsessing over a man with blue and brown eyes is a natural every day occurrence, then everything is just dandy.__

She sighed inwardly with disgust as she grabbed her badge and slid it through the security device. It beeped twice and made the door click to signal she was approved entry. Walking down the hallway to her office she saw her co-workers – all women – attired in stylish dresses and pantsuits while she shuffled her blue sweater, muttering, "I'm a fashion disaster. Nothing to be done for it!" She hung her head in 'fashion shame' as her friend Angie called it and watched her scuffed brown boots lead on to her office.

At least she'd remembered to comb her wet hair and put it up in a thick bun today, as well as adding some foundation and blush so she didn't look so washed out from her interrupted sleep cycle. Faint but dark circles had made the foundation necessary, she grimaced inwardly as she passed a co-worker and pasted on a forced smile. _This ten years' worth of nights of interrupted sleep stuff was shite_.

She stepped into her large cube with genuine happiness and practically threw herself into her chair. "Ahhhhhhh... good to see you again old friend." Sarah placed her purse under her corner computer desk unit, her folded sweater on top of it. Laying her head on her arms on her desk, she grinned. No place like home.

"What _is _your problem, Sarah? You'd think you had a relationship with your desk from the way you're laying on it and the smile of pure pleasure on your face." Her coworker and friend Angie chuckled and poked at her verbally. She handed Sarah a cup of coffee as she rose to greet the heavenly scent.

"Honestly Ang, this is the place that I'm happiest – working and fully focused. You know that. If I work hard enough I can exhaust myself mentally."

Angie, a tall and leggy blonde propped herself up against the desk and turned her head to the side with a concerned look in her eyes. She whispered, "It's getting worse, isn't it?" She took a sip of the hot brew and grimaced, "Definitely not Caribou, but it'll help." Smoothing down the pleats of of her red dress, she waited for an answer.

Sarah looked away from her friend and went through the motions of logging onto her computer, taking a few keystrokes to think aloud, "It's nothing I can't handle." She looked up briefly and looked back at the screen.

"It was the drowning this time," she muttered with her green eyes glazing over with faint fear. Her brows drew together in concentration as she recalled the suffocation of the water, the gasp and swallow of liquid that would kill her.

__And those eyes – those contrasting blue and brown eyes watching her from above the water – with fury glazing them as his arm was reaching to push her down further into the inky waves.__

Sarah shuddered and took another sip of coffee.

Angie's blue eyes bore into Sarah; she tossed her honey blonde hair over her shoulder, her perfectly made up face showing genuine worry. "Sar, sweetie, I would say that you should take another vacation, but that doesn't seem to have done you any good. You look worse after four days off than you did working everyday. Time to try professional help again?"

Sarah spun her chair to the side, grasping the cup of coffee tightly. She paled beneath the light layer of porcelain foundation. "Not again," she whispered. "I can't doubt my sanity again." Taking a deep swallow of the brew she willed the caffeine to bolster her spirit. "Those quacks prescribed every type of sleep aid, anti-anxiety, and depression med out there. The sleep study was awful – and they kept dosing me with – I dunno what," she took an unsteady breath. "And for what? It was all _inconclusive_," she snorted, "Unless you have some other type of 'professional' in mind - ," she tried to perform air quotes around the word "professional" while holding her cup and ended up in releasing a stream of coffee onto the knee of her khakis. "Shite!"

Angie snickered and grabbed a napkin from the stash on the counter. "Okay, so that wasn't funny, but it seriously was. And the way you cuss," she giggled,"you sound like a Brit. Where did you pick that up again?"

Sarah blotted hopelessly at the stain on her knee and let out a sigh that turned into a chuckle. "I couldn't tell you. I think all of the women that I've lived in these dreams... some of who they are...were... whatever!... are rubbing off on me."

"Ahhh, girl! Look at that – an honest smile and an almost-laugh from you." Angie crowed. "If you have more than one person in your head, I'd be a bit freaked. Knowing you and how tough you are, things can't be too bad. Yet. And no, I wasn't thinking of another psych -Oh wait. I have his card here..." Her friend walked across to her own cubicle and extracted the billfold wallet from her purse, pausing as she opened it. "You might think I'm crazy, but I ran into this guy a few weeks ago," she paused, took out the card, then glanced back at Sarah, handing it to her, "in the waiting room of the hospital – remember when I had to take Jeremy to the ER? Boys are so dumb." She fiddled with her coffee cup a bit, "I didn't want to say anything because...well, you don't believe in that sort of new age stuff and you'd think I was crazy to buy into it."

Sarah took the plain white business card and read aloud, "_'Henry Corrigan, Certified Regression Hypnotherapist ... Don't let your past lives interfere in your future happiness._' Interesting. But you know I don't really believe all that bullshite, Ang." She placed the card on her desk, next to her coffee and the stained napkins. Sarah looked up quickly, smiling reassuringly at her friend, "But it's okay if you do. I would never look down on you for it. Have I ever told you what a great friend you are?" She held out the business card for Angie to retrieve it.

Six foot of blonde, worried woman crouched down to Sarah's chair. She placed each of her arms on either side of Sarah and stared her down. "Keep it. I'm serious. He knew _things _– things about me and my past – my fears, and how Jeremy wasn't the crunchiest flake in the cereal box -"

Sarah snorted, "Anyone could have told you that months ago before you wasted your time!"

"I'm serious, sweetie. I think... I think this guy is legit. If you've already tried the road everyone else has walked, then why not try the one less traveled, to paraphrase," Angie smirked. "What could it hurt?"


	4. Chapter 3

_Sorry folks... short but sweet seems to work here. :)_

_Thanks to my friend Kyn, I have now seen the only wax David Bowie that Ireland has to offer. It provided me inspiration for the next few chapters that will be longer. lol_

_Again, I own nothing but my imagination. Or does it own me? Question for the ages..._

_Enjoy!_

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CHAPTER 3

Sarah thought all day about calling the hypnotherapist. She filed claims electronically, verified billing information, data entered, and called ordering doctor's offices for missing transportation forms. The work kept her busy and focused for the most part, but still swirling in the back of her mind was the internal struggle of whether to trust another human being with her _issues_ again.

She had only been eighteen the first time she'd seen her doctor about the disturbances. They weren't affecting her too badly at that point, but seemed real enough to make her wonder if she was having a breakdown of some type. Sarah still remembered the cold, sterile looks of mild interest on all those doctor's faces. She was nothing but a bug to them – to poke at and prod. Three years of psychologists, psychiatrists, numerous drugs that made her feel anxious, depressed, abnormal in her own skin followed. By the time she was twenty one she'd washed her hands of it all and discovered living with the nightly occurrences wasn't nearly as bad as the 'cures' the doctors had trotted out for her to try.

Still, things were ramping up lately … to something, she figured. She was having at least a few different disturbances each night now – no thanks to her four days of vacation, weakening her mind no doubt.

Angie only knew about Sarah's trials because she was the closest thing she'd had to a best friend for the last couple years. Their friendship had grown out of Sarah's love for all things technical, and Angie's love for all things dramatic – complete and total polar opposites. Angie reminded Sarah of all that she had loved in her youth: the glamour, the drama, and the brightness of her personality. Her flair for the dramatic underlined her ability to empathize with Sarah, and she always felt better after their long talks over coffee or meeting up for lunch or dinner when available.

She counted herself lucky to have such a nudging friend who always did what she thought best for her. Maybe this time Angie was right. Really, what could it hurt to go and see this hypno guy?

Within the last year every dream became so much... _more._ It was now to the point she would wake several times in a night to these stories that played within her unconscious mind_, _and by rote, sob out her pain, calm herself, and return to sleep to live another life.

The first time things had felt so much _more,_ Sarah'd fallen asleep on her bed, a romance book wedged between herself and her and the blankets.

_She saw him grasp her hand and felt her pulse flutter. His black gloved hand caressed her flesh, gently, and pulled her to the dance floor. She was but a teenager, she knew, but this man had seen in her the woman she was to become. He looked dashing, she thought, with his cravat and waistcoat of royal blue studded with stones. The subconscious Sarah wondered idly if they were supposed to have such detail back then...? Her eyes flashed to his face and her heart skipped a few beats. He was amazing-from the tips of his hessian boots to the tops of his pale hair pulled back in a queue. And his command of the waltz? Divine! _Sarah heard herself thinking all of this during the dream – in a posh British accent. _How weird is that_, she mused.

There were many good dreams – but the 'disturbing' ones as she called them – outweighed all the others. Those were the ones where she cringed as she felt what her counterpart in the dream felt.

Sarah was in the middle of the copying room, waiting for her turn at the scanner, when a whispered, "Memory..." fell from her lips. The thought formed and coalesced._ Maybe it was time to believe in the new age bullshite, _she sighed_._ Because if it past lives didn't exist, then she was certifiably insane – if nothing else than from the lack of sleep alone.


	5. Chapter 4

_Soon, my pretties, soon... more will be revealed! Muahahahahah! *weg* READ & REVIEW! The more reviews... the quicker I update. :D_

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CHAPTER THREE

"I can _do this_. I _can_ do this." Three days ago she had taken Angie's advice and decided to give this hypnotherapist a try. _The worst he could was make her cluck like a chicken, right? _She had teased Angie. The sad truth was, that not even Angie knew how far the _disturbances_ had gone or the sense of crushing loss that came with each interrupted sleep. It was a 'try to find help now, or to self-medicate permanently every night with wine at this point' type of situation.

Sarah took a deep breath as she stood outside the rotating main doors of a nondescript business building. At least five stories high and thoroughly modern it was sleek glass and steel construct.

She marched up to the main desk; she had never felt so unwelcome in all her life as she inquired of the snarly receptionist for "Mister Corrigan's office, please"; then directed by a pointed finger to the elevators across the way with a terse "Fifth floor, last door on the left."

A murmured, "thank you" and four floors later Sarah stood holding her breath as she turned the glass knob in her hand. Just touching it gave her a sense of well-being. It seemed strange and so out of place, but the beauty of the pure blown glass seemed to ease her anxiety as she opened the door.

Sarah stepped into the foreign space with a bit of anxiety, her messenger bag swinging idly at her hip. She'd dressed casually in jeans and a green blouse today, her lovingly-worn Doc Martens – sturdy and heavy - giving her a sense of power. Her leather messenger bag held her wallet and her Nook in case the wait to see Corrigan was long.

At first glance, she noticed antiques ornamented the walls – black and white family pictures, an antique roll-top desk, waiting room chairs carved lovingly with a "C" inlaid in the seat of each one, next to a coffee table of the same style, and a beautiful carpet done in shades of grey and black that seemed to make out the shape of an... _owl,_ she thought, as she closed the door behind her and circled around the rug. There were even pictures of... "Is that a goblin?" Sarah whispered and moved closer to the painting behind the roll-top desk. "Holy crap, it's a signed _Froud_."

Her pulse picked up. Goblin. _Goblin! _One of her dreams... _bricks, and strange creatures. She was running through a labyrinth._ A sharp pain stabbed into her head as the visions of her nighttime life filled her mind.

_Her brother, Toby, their dog, Merlin, and … and... the white curtains billowed inward as a man appeared. Him. Dressed in all his Goblin King finery – leather, studs, black - __"__**But what no one knew is that the **___**king**___**of the **___**goblins had fallen in love **___**with the girl, and he **___**had**___**given her certain powers**__." echoed_ through her spinning consciousness.

Sarah moved slowly away from the framed drawing and nearly tripped over one of the waiting room chairs. She took a seat to catch her breath, slowly surveying the room; more blown glass in the shape of irregular spheres were placed on the coffee table, some in a small pile a few chairs from her.

She saw a glimmer of something from the corner of her eye and turned. Nothing there, but for more translucent spheres.

They looked so familiar to her; inciting a caution within her, she turned away from the spheres. Sweat was beginning to bead on her forehead. Her stomach roiled. She was going to hit maximum capacity for weirdness soon. _And then a freakout will occur_, Sarah promised herself.

_Maybe I'm getting a bit too jumpy about being here. I just need to take a few deep breaths; _she tried to calm herself. Examining the rest of the spacious area, there appeared to be an empty reception desk – currently without – and a door that led back to what Sarah guessed would be the actual 'doctor office' where_ treatment_ – she mentally rolled her eyes – would occur. Turning to look back at the door, she wondering how quickly she could make it out the door again if need be, she totally missed the softly treading male in front of her, watching.

"'Miss Williams?"

Sarah started and swiftly lturned to meet the voice that greeted her so warmly. Her eyes flitted from his brown, scuffed loafers with the tassel – _because that's important,_ she smirked inwardly - up past his tan pleated trousers and blue tweed jacket over a silver cowled sweater. He appeared fit and quite masculine, as well as direly in need of the fashion police as she was. Following up his lithe build, she discovered he was over six foot tall, with his scruffy white-blonde hair pulled back behind his neck in some kind of old-fashioned queue. The planes of his face were so sharp and strong, she gasped. She noticed a small dimple in his chin, and her eyes flew to his own mismatched ones. Sarah had saved the best for last.

Throwing herself backwards to the door in fear, she choked out, "You! You drowned me!"

Sarah's eyes rolled back into her head and the man was barely able to catch her before her head hit the carpeted office floor. His gaze downward, he hiked Sarah up in his arms as though she weighed nothing, and muttered, "This wasn't supposed to happen, Jareth."


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N: I have the next chapter almost ready to go... sorry it's been delayed here. :) I just got so caught up in Valentine Evenings. Apparently, people like happy & silly love better than dramatic/romantic and a bit angsty. Who knew__? *shrugs* :)_

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The immortal sighed deeply, his whole body involved in the action. His contrasting blue and brown eyes were glazed over with inner turmoil as he idly spun the crystal spheres, biding his time. He placed an unoccupied hand over his heart and felt the strong pump of the blood through his weary body. _Soon_, he thought, _they could be together_. _Soon_.

Sarah should have come to his brother by now. Heinrich had his orders. They could only pray that she would not break from the strain of so much more to remember than what had even been in her dreams. She was the key to breaking this spell whether she knew it or not. Only she had the power to release them from this pain.

Jareth had received the summons from Azrael this afternoon – the game was on. Time, once again, was not on their side.

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Heinrich "Henry" Corrigan was the right hand man of the Goblin King. Being Jareth's youngest brother, he was also his most trusted friend, and acted as Regent over the Underground when the King was unavailable. He had specific instructions on how to handle Sarah when she came to him – but dammit she'd nearly concussed herself. She had to be handled with kid gloves from here on out; they couldn't take a chance that Azrael would send an emissary to cut her life short before Jareth could – _No, I have to stay positive. It will work this time. It has been foretold._

Henry placed Sarah on the drab gray antique chaise lounge in the office he used for paperwork. His head in his hands, he stared down at the gray carpeting and wondered how to proceed. _What would Jareth do?_ He smirked. Sarah obviously thought Henry had murdered her – an incarnation of her to be precise. Running a hand through his wild hair, he sat up suddenly. They had so little time left, and there was so much to explain to this mortal woman. He watched her shallow breathing.

She was truly lovely, Henry noted. No wonder Jareth had risked so much for her soul, and his immortal heart. Her long amber hair shone lustrous against her pale and now somewhat waxy complexion. The puffy lavender tint under her eyes showed how little true rest she'd been able to get with the memories haunting her nightly. He hoped with all his heart that she would accept what he had to tell her.

Suddenly, Sarah's body arched and she gasped into wakefulness, as though her soul had been slammed back into her body. She rolled to her side and coughed, trying to sit up. Henry moved to assist her; she screamed, "No! Get back! _No!_" Her wide green eyes were wild as she struggled away from him to a standing position that had her backing away from him and towards the window of the office. An open window. With no screen.

"Shite!" Henry cussed, " I mean you no harm, Sarah Williams, I swear it! On my brother's crown, I would _never_ harm you." He held out his hands with the palms up beseechingly.

Her eyes were wide and wild with fear; she took another step back, then another, drawn by the sounds of traffic below.

"Crown? What? _I saw you kill me in my dream!_" she yelled. "You just stay away!"

"Please, wait – STOP! Don't take another step or you're liable to fall to your death from that window. Azrael will come and then Jareth will kill _me_." His face crumpled a bit, "I mean you no harm. Please. I know about your dreams. I'm here to help – I was trying to help you then, too. _Please_," he whispered, praying to all the Gods above and below that she would not die yet.

"You shoved me down. I drowned – and you kept shoving me down, further and further. I couldn't breathe, I was so... so sad. I lost him. _I lost him_!" she ran to the window, bent over and proceeded to vomit onto the street five stories below. When she had emptied her stomach, she slid down to the floor and curled into a ball.

"Oh my God," she moaned in between sobs, "I've finally snapped!"

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Henry knew about her dreams but really hadn't expected her to react so strongly or to remember much of her previous history. Each time they met she was different; most times she didn't know who the main players were until the very end. Such as now; the ending was coming for her as it always did when one of the Royal Fae started to intervene. She had to be given the choice this time. So much had already been taken from her and Jareth. His face twisted with regret. So many lives, and so little to show for it but unrequited love and fear. _Oh no, he would never forget her fear, _he smiled grimly and promised to make the fates pay.

He slowly approached the whimpering woman who still hugged her knees and looked off in the distance.

"Sarah Williams, My name is Heinrich, and I am here to help you remember."

She was a being of pure, dark sorrow and bright, clashing love. Her emotions overwhelming her, she squeezed her eyes shut to push back at the pain of … knowledge? She didn't know. The ragged edges of her thoughts and feelings battered at her psyche.

"It's too much! These can't all be _mine_. " she cried as she huddled against the wall and wiped her mouth on the sleeve. Her stomach threatened to rebel again. She took deep breaths through the lurching and looked up again at Henry. She took in his angled face again and the dimple in the chin, the dissimilar eyes. She shivered and murmured in a raw voice, "Please don't kill me again. I'll do anything you want, just please don't hurt me."

She flinched as Henry moved suddenly closer; he noticed and quietly dropped down to sit cross-legged a few feet from her. "I'm not going to hurt you, Sarah. I swear. I've been sworn to protect you. There's so much you don't know... and we don't have the luxury of time here."

Sarah wiped at the tears leaking from her eyes, "What's wrong with me?"

His sympathetic gaze never once left her pinched face; "You've traveled a great many lives and times. It's all catching up with you right here and now."

"That's just a bunch of crap!" Sarah screamed, "_What's happening to me and who the hell are you_?" Her glassy eyes begged for the truth.

Henry reached a hand out to her.

"Take my hand. Go on, take it. Just touch me and you'll see it all. Sarah, please, now _I'm _begging _you_."

_I can't be a coward now_, she thought, _and he hasn't harmed me yet_. She mentally ached from the maelstrom of emotions, lives, that threatened to overtake her again. If touching him would tell her something, make some sort of sense of all this grief and love, her irrational fear of him, then it was the only option. She didn't know this man from Adam as herself, but deep inside, she sensed she _did_. And he was a good person.

Deliberately, Sarah allowed her palm to touch Henry's; he gently grasped her hand and then her subconscious woke fully to show her the truth of her plight.


	7. Chapter 6

_A/N: Yay! Another chapter... Thanks to all of you that have left comments reviewing, Favorite-ing and Story Alert-ing. As always, I own nothing you recognize. R&R! :)_

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_S__he was five and her name was Agape. Her father was looking for her amongst the olives; she giggled, dragging her robe on the ground behind her to leave a trail._

_She was sixteen and beautiful; dressed in her everyday ecru robes, waiting on the man her father had chosen her to marry. '_A God_,' he had whispered to his superstitious family. She had snorted, _a God indeed_, and tossed back her raven locks. This man had verbally picked at her all evening, raising her ire, and then suggested boldly that they walk on the shore to discuss their impending marriage. Agape had waited underneath their olive trees in disgust. His pale hair and face was not the tanned complexion she was used to. _Clearly he was lazy_, she thought._

_Jarod had joined her – his blue and brown eyes searching her face, his lips had whispered, "Dear Agape. I've waited so long for you." His eyes burned with want of her. He'd motioned them towards the beach. "Shall we walk?"_

_Occasionally they would fall into bits of conversation, making small talk as they strode side by side through the gritty sand; each covertly stealing glances of the other._

"_Are you really a God as my father believes? He fears you, you know." she'd questioned with a bit of anger._

"_I am not a God. I am merely a King. If he chooses to believe otherwise, there's naught to be done."_

"_Then I would be your Queen."_

"_As you wish." he nodded and adjusted the cowls on his robe. She'd watched him do that through the insufferably long dinner shared with her parents and siblings._

"_Are you nervous, oh great King?" she'd smirked._

"_Beauty always makes me nervous. I never know when it shall become spoilt." he'd pointedly arched his brows at her. _

"_Well that's uncalled for. One never knows when a King may turn into a pest." she huffed and went to walk closer to the ocean's edge. She'd wanted to dip her toes in. Maybe it would cool her temper._

"_My apologies," Jarod had inclined his head, "It's been many years since I-"_

_Agape cut in;"How old are you exactly? Are you going to die and leave me all alone? What about children? Should I even bother to fall in love with you?" _

_A lopsided smile had appeared on his pale, handsome face, "I will give you anything and everything that you could ever want, dear woman. And I am not so old as to be useless. You'll see."_

_Then a flash, and she was heavy with child – a boy, she swore – and knew that Jarod would be pleased. _

_Her blue robes settled over her stomach as her husband kissed her deeply and sweetly; he was going to be gone for the day to deal with some land issue regarding the neighbors to the north. For a King he seemed to spend much time outside their lands; and yet retained his paleness. Delegation was hard on her autocratic husband. He made promises to stay closer to home until the babe was older._

_And finally, "I will not see you bear that demon's children. Better you be dead, daughter!" Agape next saw her own death at the hands of her father. He had come upon her in the small house she and Jarod had taken to be near him, and beaten her, smashing her skull as he sobbed. "Azrael, save her soul!" he wailed and held the stick high above his head, tears flowing freely as the blood splatter and brain matter on the walls._

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Sarah tapped into the power that knowledge gave her; it was like a trigger and opened a floodgate within her psyche.

Again and again, through several lives she was various people in different stations of life... and in each one she died before she could fulfill the prophecy of everlasting love and peace to be brought with the birth of her and Jarod's child.

The images imparted to her lasted no more than the click of a camera taking a picture. Snapshots of each and every life filtered through her mind as she took in every thought, feeling, and the complete knowledge of what went wrong. She knew her names... Agape, Kama, Unne, Asta, Maitea, Amora, Grania, Femi, Mina, Filomena and so many others... names that all meant _'Love'._

Unconsciously this first time, she mentally slowed the images down and stopped on the frame of Henry above her from her view point in the water.

Henry _had_ been trying to save her; his brother had charged him with her care for the day. A wharf rat pickpocket had unknowingly caused a series of unfortunate events which lead to Sarah – Mademoiselle Amora at the time – losing her footing and falling off the edge of the wharf, her powdered hair a tangled white nest within the dirty port water as she sank.

Sarah consciously sped the moments in time up, not wanting to see her drowning again. She began to see a pattern – not only was Henry in most of them, but her beloved. In a few lives they had met and married within a short time; she had become pregnant, but never lived long enough to deliver.

Most lives – what she believed to be more recent times – she caught no more than a glimpse of him – from a carriage window, walking around the corner – moments before fate intervened and an accident took her life. Clearly, Death was dogging her steps.

"What is your brother's name?"**s**he murmured to Henry as she continued to mentally sift through the images in the present.

Henry bowed his head and whispered reverently,"Jareth"_. _

_A bright flash of light filled her mind and she saw Toby, her little brother in this lifetime. The Escher room with stairs, turns, curves, and stones askew; and knew all that had transpired running the Labyrinth he had set for her. Only this time, he was a Goblin King in service to the Gods in return for his immortality to search for _her – _forever if need be_. _But she was young – too young – to understand or accept his offers, and thus with her rejection of him, she was given the gift of forgetting._

_Lastly, she could see her youthful face twist, and remembered the ache in her chest. She sat alone in her bedroom; her new found friends from the Labyrinth had left a while ago and she was finished cleaning up the streamers and Didymus's Scrabble tiles. So now she sat at her vanity and knew she would not remember any of this in the morning. It was against the rules. The Gods provided Jareth with a Kingdom as he performed services in their honor, but she could not keep her knowledge if she did not stay with him in the Underground. Thirteen hours had never seemed so short nor so long to see your love and have them ripped away from you. When the hell was their timing ever going to be right?_

"_Come back to me." She had whispered to the mirror. Almost immediately Jareth's visage appeared within the mirror, his hand placed against the surface. Sarah placed hers over his and squeezed her eyes shut. She could almost feel the warmth from his palm on hers._

_Jareth was clad in the feathered owl cape, his untamed pale hair with his mismatched eyes boring into hers. He spoke not a word, but was nodding as she blinked open her eyes. Jareth inclined his head deeply once, and Sarah's heart expanded within her fragile chest. He would come for her. He always did. And then he disappeared from her sight._


End file.
